Johnny April sat against the warm rocks in the sun and sighed. He’d begun to hate the beach but today, with the weather so lovely and sandpipers showing off for him, he believed in the sound and swell of the ocean again.

There was another reason, too. The man he’d been watching for two days now. He too, would stop doing his tai chi exercises at the shoreline, and laugh as the sandpipers dive-bombed the ocean waves, their little webbed feet sticking out of the water before raising their heads, squawking at the sky.

The man was beautiful. Just beautiful. He had dark hair that could probably be described as shaggy and a sinewy, surfer’s body. But he was blond-haired Johnny’s ideal kind of guy. Johnny watched the man’s graceful moves as he completed his morning ritual. Johnny knew that once he was done, the man would plunge into the water to surf.

When he turned and smiled at Johnny, suddenly the beach didn’t seem like his enemy anymore.

The man had glanced back a couple of times to look at him and each time, Johnny had let his gaze fall away. His stomach rumbled now. He turned his head and watched the final construction of the Ferris wheel taking place at the Ventura County Fair.

Another seaside town, another fairground.

His stomach began to growl. He could smell funnel cake and molten toffee for apples on the breeze. He would have bought some funnel cake if he had any money, but he didn’t.

Johnny’s gaze flew back to the shoreline, where the tai chi guy was slipping his wetsuit on over his board shorts. He glanced at Johnny, their gazes holding. Johnny felt the familiar tug of attraction scissor through his body.

It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to like another guy, mostly because he didn’t know what he’d say if the guy even approached him. The more serious reason was that his father though homosexuality was disgusting and there was little Johnny could do to stand up to him.

He rose from the sand, dusting off his legs and began to walk back to the camping site beside the fairground. The dark-haired, handsome man’s face would be burned in his mind for a long time, but he had to stop thinking about him. It was no use.

Johnny hadn’t walked very far when a voice behind him said, “Hey.”

He stopped, swallowed hard and suddenly couldn’t breathe. Johnny had no social skills to speak of, outside of selling tickets and smiling like a fool at potential customers.

“Dude.” The man behind him began to laugh and Johnny slowly turned. The tai chi guy gave him a quizzical look. “My name is Mike Monroe.” He held out his hand and Johnny took it. They shook hands, their gazes locking. Johnny luxuriated in the brief moment of contact.

“Johnny April,” he said. He liked the feel of Mike Monroe’s hand. The cold, rough, yet soft texture of his skin. He smelled good, too. Only, he couldn’t identify the origin of the scent.

“You’re not staying to watch me?” Mike asked. They were still holding hands.

Johnny didn’t want to let go, but did. Maybe it was his imagination but it seemed to him that Mike hadn’t wanted to let go, either.

“I have to get ready for work.” Johnny hated his life. Hated the way things had turned out. He often dreamed of running away but it never happened. The only reason he stayed was that he was the eldest and he worried about his mom and eight siblings. He could take his dad’s rage. He preferred it over Dominic April venting his spleen at the others.

“Work already?” Mike Monroe’s dark, deep yes held a light, a gleam, that Johnny felt was missing from his own soul. He wanted to stay and watch.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he blurted.

Mike quirked a brow at him. “Tomorrow? You mean you work all day?”

“Yep.”

That seemed to stump the surfer. “What do you do at the fair?”

“I’m the magician’s assistant.”

Mike stared at him. Johnny detected some disbelief. Well, he couldn’t help that. It was true. He gave the guy a friendly wave and kept moving back up to the road. He waited for the traffic to thin out and ran across the two-lane highway. It might not have been the smartest thing to do but Johnny secretly hoped some fast-moving vehicle would take him out. That would be one way to get out of a long day of nonsense.

Not that what his father did was nonsense. He was a magician, a real magician, but hid his talent behind the usual fairground crap – “Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!” Occasionally, he’d make hecklers in the audience disappear.

On more than one occasion, alcohol had been involved on both sides and Johnny and his mom, Oxandia, had to beg Dominic to bring the offender back.

Dominic April might have been the best magician in the world, but magic had brought him nothing but trouble. When he used it, really used it, it was mercurial and usually brought disaster. His drinking had affected his work. Always had.

Until the night of Johnny’s eighth birthday, it hadn’t been difficult growing up in a house of magic. Simply because on that night, after the best birthday of his life, Johnny’s father had done something terrible. He’d fought with his brother, Johnny’s uncle and made him vanish.

Dominic hadn’t even tried to bring his brother back. He’d just packed up the family in the middle of the night and taken off for a life on the road. Sometimes, late at night when he was feeling especially melancholy, he’d confide in his wife saying he didn’t think he could ever bring Sebastian “back from the abyss.”

Over the years Johnny felt helpless rage and deep sadness over the abandoned gifts and almost all the other personal belongings he’d been forced to leave behind. He would think about his uncle, too, but Sebastian was as remote as Santa Claus, whom Johnny had never been allowed to believe in.

Even though, he secretly did…

Now nineteen, Johnny was still under his father’s thumb because he’d never been enrolled in school. He had no formal identification, no real education and no way to extract himself from his domineering and increasingly crazy father.

For thirteen years, Dominic April had forced his family to travel from one beachside town to another, following the annual fairs all across America. He would perform feats of magic and make enough money to keep the old Winnebago going and to feed his wife and now, nine children.

Johnny had grown up with a warped sense of romance because he’d been forced to listen to his parents’ activities each night. When the family had first left their home in Summerland, California, there had been three children. With each successive year came new pregnancies, more babies. Now his mom was pregnant again after a blissful space between kids.

They were arguing. He could hear his father’s belligerent tone as he made his way across the already sweltering asphalt parking lot and over to the family’s campsite. This one was better than most, with hot and cold shower water, cheap food stalls and proper toilets.

Johnny was halfway through reading a paperback him mom had found in the women’s restroom. Reading was his refuge. Reading was his life. She’d worked with him, and all the kids, teaching them to read and write. They read newspapers together and books they found. They scrounged free reading material at libraries and homeless shelters when Dominic was too drunk to perform and couldn’t feed his family.

Heart racing as he neared the family’s caravan, Johnny wondered how on earth he and his siblings had managed to fall through the cracks of the system. Hadn’t any of the people he’d met over the years thought it was weird that the April kids were never in school and appeared to work year round?

Johnny reached the picnic table beside the caravan where most of the kids were clustered. He saw that his mom had produced several piles of toast and a big pot of coffee. The younger kids were sipping on juice boxes. Johnny poured himself some coffee and grabbed a slice. He’d long ago learned to fill up on coffee. Today wouldn’t be bad though. He’d get some food by lunchtime because his mom would make sure they all got to eat something.

He suddenly smelled teriyaki sauce and his mom shot him a fearful look.

His mother put a hand over her stomach. Morning sickness had really affected her this time. The last two times actually. She only ever saw doctors when she was giving birth. The family had left a trail of debt all over the country.

Some of the kids laughed. They never took their father seriously, because they’d never experienced his wrath first-hand. They only heard the way he treated his wife and oldest son. And besides, no way in hell was Johnny fat. He was skinny. Very skinny. He sculled the hot coffee and declined the toast when it became obvious the other kids were ravenous.

His mother surreptitiously shooed him away. Her flapping hand gesture was offensive but also helpful. When his dad was in this kind of mood anything was possible. And if he was this drunk now, he might not be able to perform.

His mother knew his father’s moods and if Johnny might be in danger. She had grown accustomed to waving her son away until Dominic’s fearsome temper had abated. Johnny had recurring fantasies of leaving his father on a curb somewhere and taking the rest of his family away in the Winnebago. Except that he couldn’t drive.

He bit his lip.

“I’ll be okay,” his mom whispered. A couple of the other kids caught the tremor of fear rippling between them and stopped eating.

“Be back in a few minutes,” Johnny said, giving the others a reassuring grin. He walked off quickly, crossing the road and found Mike out on the water now, waiting for a wave. Mike beckoned him.

“Come on in,” he called out. “The water’s fine.”

Johnny’s only stab at control was to occasionally follow his heart. He wavered for a moment, petrified his father would catch him out in the ocean with another man.

Ah, to hell with it. He strode into the water in his white tank top and cut-off jeans, Mike laughing at him. Johnny was a strong swimmer. A good swimmer. He reached the surfer who hauled him up to the nine foot long pintail and Johnny sat in front of him.

“Me, too.” Johnny’s voice cracked in total terror as Mike began positioning the board for an oncoming wave.

He’d just seen his father at the shoreline.

Oh, God no.

His father began to shriek and point, his rage mirrored by sudden, dark clouds appearing above them. Lightning flashed, thunder cracked.

Mike stopped swishing the waves with his hands. “What the…

“You’re a faggot!” Dominic screamed at his son. “Do you repent your sins?”

What sins? I’ve done nothing wrong! Johnny didn’t say the words aloud. His father hadn’t been like this for…years.

“Tell me you repent. And I’ll let you live, you little fuck!”

“Who the hell is he?” Mike rasped in his ear.

“My father.”

“Goddamn. He’s—”

But Mike’s words became swallowed by a tide of rain and crackles of thunder.

“You are banished!” Dominic April screamed from the shoreline. He pointed to his son who felt a rush of fire in his throat.

And then his father shouted, “You can come back on the twelfth of never!”

“What’s going on?” Mike cried out. “What’s he doing to me?”

Indeed, Mike was burning up, but so was Johnny. He felt himself lifting from the board, Mike’s arms holding onto his waist as Johnny began to spin and spin, the clouds, rain and smoke beginning to disappear.

Johnny yelled into the wind as Mike’s hands slipped from his body. His father’s mad laughter rang in his ears and then…

Nothing…

Chapter Two

Johnny heard sounds. Fairground sounds as he slid from a strange darkness and hit the ground. Hard. It was night. Man, how much time had he lost?

He looked around him, the crowd thick and the air strangely acrid as he tried to get up off the ground.

“Easy,” a male voice said, and Johnny turned to thank the man, only he wasn’t talking to Johnny, he was talking to the collection of people gathered around the still-prone Johnny.

The man wore a ridiculous lion-tamer getup and brandished a whip.

“Is he one of the sideshow freaks, Papa?” a little boy asked.

Sideshow freak? Me? Johnny tried to stand, but his body felt weak, bizarrely so, as if he’d somehow lost every bone in his body. He began to fear the crowd peering down at him. Some man with a massive camera took his photo. The flash almost blinded Johnny. Then he understood the acrid smell. That was some old-fashioned camera. His father had shown him one years ago when they’d toured a fairground in Texas.

The old cameras operated with a small amount of gunpowder.

“What is he? Half man, half…fish?” The little kid sneered down on Johnny who had no idea what the child was talking about until he glanced at his suddenly itchy feet and realized he was wearing his board shorts and that his body was covered in long strands of seaweed.

He struggled to rise, wondering who the hell these people were. They were all dressed oddly. It wasn’t so strange in the south or way up in New England where people were inclined to live in isolated communities, but in California, it was damned weird. Johnny got to his knees, the crowd letting out a collective “ooh,” as the seaweed fell away from his body.

“Do you think he is dangerous, Papa?” The kid looked frightened now. Papa appeared to be the man with the whip in his hand, and Johnny could tell the guy was surreptitiously coiling it into a tighter loop, the better to lash out and beat Johnny with it.

Somebody stepped out of the crowd to help him, bending down. Johnny saw a long dress with a lace petticoat peeking from under it and tiny black shoes.

“Thank you.” Johnny went to reach for her hand, but she had none. She was an armless woman.” The crowd roared with laughter and embarrassment sent his cheeks aflame.

“Hold my shoulder,” the woman said. “I’m strong.”

He did as she suggested and she was strong. And not very happy. Her halo of dark, tight curls framed a thin, tired, face.

“Thank you,” he said again, his whole body burning as he tried to stand on his own.

“Hold onto me,” she said, in a curious accent and led him away from the crowd. She moved briskly, but only Johnny’s left leg worked. His right one dragged behind him. She slowed a little, but he was able to keep up with her now. She led him through a set of thick, red velvet curtains.

“I have to go on stage,” she whispered. “Myrtle’s in that room over there.” She jutted her chin to the left and he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. “She’s really a very sweet girl.”

Johnny thanked the armless woman again, his words drowned out by a man yelling to the appreciative crowd, “Step right up, folks! Come and see the famous armless woman!”

He watched through a sliver of space in the heavy curtains separating the stage from the backstage area and was horrified to see a young boy with hair all over his face, on his knees, acting like a dog, the man with the whip cracking it dangerously close to the boy’s body. The hirsute boy managed to avoid the lash, darting off stage by throwing himself under the hem of the curtain. The crowd roared its disappointment.

The armless lady walked on stage and stood there, a look of deep humiliation on her face. She was older than she first appeared and something about her stirred a deep memory within Johnny. Myrtle with the blonde hair popped her head out of the door where she’d been watching him.

She wore a very ornate Victorian-style dress, her top half narrow and trim, the bottom half surprisingly wide. He stared at her knee area as she stood, beckoning him.

Something was kicking as she spoke to him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, even as she said, “Are you new here?”

When he didn’t respond, she moved back inside. He followed her to a room where another hairy man sat, reading a newspaper. Myrtle took up her position beside him, indicating the chair opposite her for Johnny to sit.

He stared as Myrtle’s knee area continued to jump and kick. With a sigh, she pulled up her petticoat skirts.

The woman had four legs. Two full-length ones and two short ones. All wore white stockings with black ankle boots. The two shorter legs stopped kicking.

Johnny blinked. He knew who she was now, but it was impossible.

Just impossible.

“Are you…” He swallowed. “Are you Myrtle Corbin?”

She smiled. “Yes, I am. Have we met?” She looked a little confused.

“No. No. We’ve never met.” He was beginning to panic now. Myrtle Corbin had been a circus sideshow freak a long time ago. He’d read about her and seen photos of her. She had, as far as he could recall, died in the 1920’s.

He glanced at the newspaper the hairy man was reading. He couldn’t read the headline.

“Where are we?” Johnny asked.

“Why, don’t you know?” Myrtle looked stunned.

“No. I had a little …accident.” When he thought about his father banishing him and the strange moon he’d seen, a flash of thunder and lightning. Wait. What moon? Ah. He remembered now. A strange yellow moon had haunted his dark tumble into the abyss.

Myrtle and the hairy man stared at him, then from outside on the stage area came the loud roar of laughter.

“Poor Anne. She only does this to survive. Most nights she cries herself to sleep,” Myrtle said, then bit her lip. “Please don’t tell her I told you that.”

“I won’t.” Johnny could see the newspaper’s masthead now. The Cleburne Times. Cleburne, Texas. He knew that Myrtle had died there, but she seemed the picture of health. The hairy man, who turned out to be Lionel, the lion-faced man, rose from his seat as the circus announcer called out his name.

“Can I look at your paper, please?” Johnny asked.

“Don’t you mean may I?” Lionel asked.

“Of course. I am sorry.” It wasn’t the first time Johnny had been forced to apologize for his lack of education. He took hold of the paper as Lionel left the room. Johnny felt sincerely sorry for the man who appeared to be completely covered in coarse, brown hair.

Johnny wanted to read the headlines, figure out what year it was.

Had he really gone back to the 1920’s?

How could he go back to the future and rescue his mom and siblings?

And…he suddenly remembered Mike. Where was he? Had Johnny’s father hurt him?

Myrtle was sobbing quietly.

“Are you all right?” he asked, surprised when his legs worked and he was able to get to her.

“I can feel my baby kicking,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

She shook her head. “A phantom pregnancy. I already have five children, but I lost one. I dream of her sometimes. They forced me to abort her. She was a girl.”

“I’m sorry.” Johnny had to get out of here. He moved to the door. Myrtle was still sobbing. The world had become a weird and terrible place. He wanted to cry and scream all at the same time.

He pushed his way out of his misery and out toward the crowd outside the velvet curtains. He was stunned to see Mike on the outskirts of the audience. Their gazes held. Johnny rushed over to him.

“Where the hell are we?” Mike asked. “And where the fuck is the beach?”

“You’re nuts. You know that?” Mike pushed himself away from Johnny, backing into somebody. It was armless Annie. Mike’s mouth opened in a silent scream. He kept shaking his head, his jaw slack as he backed into another circus freak.

And ran.

Johnny went after him, but Mike shouted at him.

“Stay away from me! Stay the fuck away!”

Johnny stopped running. He turned and found Annie watching him, a look of anguish on her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “He meant no disrespect. He’s frightened—”

“Of me?” She looked devastated.

Brilliant, Johnny. Way to go upsetting the one person who’s been nice to you. “No. Of me. It’s my fault we came here.”

She looked at him, her bright, inquisitive eyes filled with compassion. He saw a sign now saying P. T. Barnum above the stage. He’d spent his whole life trying to get away from circuses and fairgrounds. Now he was in the thick of a master showman’s sideshow. He could practically smell the misery around him.

“Johnny.”

He stiffened slightly when he heard Mike’s voice. He turned slowly and found the surfer standing there, his surfboard in hand, covered in seaweed.

“I found my stick,” he said. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“I must go,” Annie said and ran off as soon as Johnny turned back to look at her.

“Glad you found it,” he told Mike.

“Care to explain how we got here?” Mike looked like he was really struggling with all of this. Johnny couldn’t begin to explain.

A crack of thunder shot overhead.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.”

“How do we get back, Toto?” Mike gave him the hint of a smile.

Johnny let out a sigh. If going back meant a beating from his dad and not being near Mike, he didn’t want it right now.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said again. He walked closer to Mike and they left the confines of the showground. He was so impressed with some of the antique vehicles they spotted, not to mention the horses and buggies, that he missed Mike’s next statement.

“I’m sorry, Mike. What did you say?”

“I said, I want to kiss you. Then I want to figure out how the hell we get out of this place. Did you see some of those circus freaks?”

“Yeah, I did.” It was hard to believe people’s birth defects had set them up for ridicule this way.

“Fish boy!” A female voice called out. It took Johnny a moment to realize it was Annie calling after him. And she was referring to him.

Fish boy?

“Are you hungry?” she asked Johnny and Mike. “Only, I just cooked a wonderful stew and there’s plenty of food. You’re most welcome to join us.”

“I’m starved,” Mike said, his apparent urge to kiss Johnny now forgotten. Johnny had never kissed another man and wanted to, desperately, except Mike and Annie had started walking toward the circus grounds again.

Johnny followed, aware of his acute hunger, as well as his neglected passions. He glanced up at the sky and saw that yellow moon.

The crack of thunder and flash of lightning that greeted his gaze threw him up and back with a real, physical force.

“Noooooo!” he screamed as he circled once again back into the void.

Chapter Three

“Johnny. Johnny?”

The voice came from far away, a hot, bright light hit him in the eyes as he struggled to keep them open.

“Hurts,” he muttered, and moved, the taste of sand in his face.

“You had a bad wipeout,” Mike said, leaning over him. “Are you okay?”

Johnny sat up, aware of the crowd around him.

“I wiped out?” Every muscle in his body ached, his stomach cramped. He must have swallowed a boatload of water.

Johnny tried to rise but his legs wobbled. His right leg stung like hell. That was when he noticed he was sitting on top of a box jellyfish, its tentacles wrapped around his ankle.

“Holy shit,” the lifeguard muttered. “I didn’t notice that before.” He knelt beside Johnny, whose leg throbbed now, his head hammering along in unison. The lifeguard donned work gloves and removed the tentacles. The jellyfish was still alive and tried to wrap its painful tendrils around Johnny’s left foot now.

It was hard to act macho when he wanted to scream and cry, but Johnny watched the lifeguard dump the sea creature into a bucket. “Gotta get vinegar out of the car. Be right back,” the guy muttered.

“Sure,” Johnny said. Pee worked better than vinegar, but the lifeguard was back, opening a plastic gallon bottle of vinegar and doused Johnny’s red and swollen leg with it.

Ah, much better. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You want to go to the hospital or—”

“No,” Johnny and Mike said in unison. Johnny very rarely saw medical personnel. It opened up too many questions since he had no ID and his father was paranoid about those in authority.

“I live right across the road,” Mike said. “I can take care of him.”

The lifeguard nodded. “Keep him out of the water the rest of the day, yeah?”

“Will do.”

Johnny thanked the guy again and received a friendly wave as he got to his feet and hobbled across the sand with Mike, who put his arm around Johnny and helped him.

“I tried to grab you but that wave was so fuckin’ huge man, you were all the way to the bottom of it. And then the lifeguard came.” Mike held him a little tighter. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Johnny already knew that he’d have a huge bruise all over his chest and belly by tomorrow. Man, the weird dream he’d had of the four-legged circus freak and the armless woman…

He almost fell over when they reached the highway and he saw that the county fair was gone.

“How…when…did the fair close down?”

“No idea,” Mike said. “I think it was last weekend, wasn’t it?” He was clearly distracted. “Can you make a run for it as soon as there’s a break in traffic?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll help you. Okay, run!” Mike kept his arm around Johnny, the other clutching his board. Across the road, he kept his grip on Johnny and led him down a small alleyway between two beach-style apartment buildings.

Johnny had never been inside any of these places, though over the years, he’d wondered about who lived there and what they were like inside. Apartment buildings jostled for space with cottages that went uphill towards the Santa Susana Mountains framing the beachside town away from the ocean. Half a block up, he turned right, Johnny almost colliding with him as Mike began climbing stairs to a second-floor unit. Mike took it slowly.

“Easy,” he said.

Yeah, easy for him to say. Johnny was in pain, his equilibrium really off and now his leg was throbbing again. He held onto the chipped wooden railing as they moved up the stairs to the small patio. Mike pushed open the screen door, thrust open the warped wooden door and Johnny stepped inside.

He immediately felt better. Mike was a surf bum. All his surfing posters, which revealed an obsession with big wave rider Laird Hamilton and The Endless Summer, the godfather of surfing movies, Johnny was relieved the guy seemed normal. After all, who knew what lurked in a stranger’s home? Ever since his mom had bought a small TV and they’d been able to catch up on crime shows, Johnny had begun to learn his dad wasn’t the only weirdo out there.

“Get your clothes off and get into the shower,” Mike said. He was stripping before Johnny could even blink.

Mike naked, was a treasure to behold. His cock was enormous. Simply huge and wonderful looking. Johnny took off his board shorts and left them on the living room floor like Mike had left his.

For a moment, Johnny simply stood and luxuriated in the space around him. It had been years since he’d been able to reach out and not touch walls on either side of him. He grinned as he followed Mike into the bathroom. He’d just noticed the kitchen and the stacks of cereal boxes on the table. Johnny hadn’t been allowed to touch commercial food since he was five. And his father would flip out if Johnny ate packaged cereal. His father believed subliminal messages were hidden on the boxes urging kids to kill and commit crimes. Not to mention the drugs he insisted were infused in the cereals themselves…

Considering my upbringing, I think I’m doing pretty well. I should be barking mad by now. Johnny stepped into the bathtub with Mike, wondering if perhaps he were more than slightly crazy. After all, his parents had vanished and he’d had the strange experience in the circus sideshow.

Mike gripped his shoulders. “I’m going to pee on your leg. We’ll let it dry off then you can take a shower later.”

He kissed Johnny lightly on the lips. Johnny almost swooned. And then he felt the hot liquid cascading down his leg. It should have been icky, but it wasn’t. He wanted another kiss. That’s what he wanted.

“Stay there a moment,” Mike said. “Let it air dry. I’m gonna make some coffee. Want a cup?”

“I’d love one, thanks. And can I please have some cereal?”

Mike grinned. “Sure you can.”

Johnny waited alone in the tub. He could hear Mike singing some off-key song in the kitchen. For some reason, it made him absurdly happy. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t listening to his father spouting forth his absurd, paranoid bullshit.

He looked out of the small bathroom window, loving the smell of the ocean. The fairgrounds were empty. He could hear the faint cry of seagulls. All utterly normal.

Yet, absolutely weird.

“Come on out,” Mike called.

Johnny obeyed. “Should I put my shorts on?” he asked when he reached the kitchen.

“No. Do you want to put your shorts on?”

Johnny shook his head, especially when he realized that Mike was still naked, too. He took a seat at the table.

“You tried Apple Jacks?” Mike asked. “They’re my favorite. He handed Johnny a bowl and spoon and dropped a huge carton of milk on the table. Johnny poured and ate, checking out the missing kid on the side of the carton. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see his own image there.

Johnny ate two bowls and felt more full than he could remember. He was usually left starving after family meals. The only time he wasn’t hungry was during fairs when stall holders sneaked food to him and his siblings.

He tried not to worry about the younger ones and hoped they were all right.

“Everything okay?” Mike asked.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

“How’s the leg?”

“It feels good. Thank you.”

“Here. Take a couple of Motrin, they’ll help. I bet you have a headache.”

“Thanks. I do.” Johnny popped the pills Mike handed him and spooned the rest of the milk from his bowl into his mouth.

“You want some ice cream?” Mike asked.

“Ice cream?”Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten ice cream. His father said it was a crime against children or some such rubbish.

Mike scooped some pecan praline into his own bowl, put some into Johnny’s, then offered him corn flakes to put over the top of it. Johnny had never had anything like it. He fell in love after the first taste.

“Good, huh?” Mike licked the scoop, then flung it into the sink.

Johnny followed Mike over to the sofa where they finished what the other man called their crunchy ice cream, coffee and watched some crazy cooking show on TV where two surfers traveled around Australia and made fish in a dishwashing machine.

“We should try that,” Mike said, powering off the TV as the two surfers got back into their VW van and tootled off to their next adventure.

“How’s the leg?” Mike asked, leaning closer to him.

“It feels good.”

Mike smiled. “I’m glad.” He reached up and kissed Johnny, his hand playing lightly at the wisps of hair on the nape of Johnny’s neck.

Johnny liked the way Mike kissed. He loved the softness of the man’s lips, yet the full insistence of their embrace. He liked the man’s tongue, testing, tasting him. Their kiss went on. When Mike got to his knees and leaned in closer, Johnny could see the guy’s cock was rigid and sticking right out at him.

Oh…

Johnny reached out and touched it, Mike reacting instantly. His cock jerked a little, landing right into the palm of Johnny’s hand. Mike pushed Johnny back. Johnny didn’t mind losing contact with that magnificent cock, not when Mike was kissing his way down Johnny’s chest. But still…

Mike kissed and licked Johnny’s nipples, ignoring Johnny’s raging hard on. He took his time. Johnny had never had his nipples touched before and liked the sensation of Mike’s fingers and tongue on them.

He tried to ignore the smell of pee on his leg as Mike moved down, grazing Johnny’s hip bone with his tongue.

Johnny wanted to die of embarrassment. He had no idea he was supposed to…groom the hair down there. Now that he thought about it, he’d noticed only a small amount on Mike.

But Mike seemed mesmerized with Johnny’s cock now. He began to suck and lick it, moaning loudly, his eyes ablaze with desire.

Johnny prayed he could last long enough to enjoy it. He thought he was going to come on the spot when Mike sucked the head of his cock into his tightly drawn lips, but then he released Johnny again.

Mike began to lick the shaft now, patiently, like a cat. Johnny felt drowsy with the full throttle pleasure beginning to burn inside him. It reminded him of the low heat his mother would use on the rare occasions she slow-cooked vegetable stew.

Only this was all his. All for him.

Johnny twisted and turned in pleasure as Mike ran his fingers up and down Johnny’s body and sucked his cock with determination. Johnny hoped Mike would come off him again because Johnny didn’t know how to hold it.

When Mike drew almost every inch of Johnny’s length into his mouth and throat, it was too much. Johnny came hard, letting out a shout.

Mike didn’t let up, sucking, licking, teasing every last drop out of him.

Then suddenly, Johnny had the urge to pee.

“Take a shower and wash the pee off,” Mike urged, “then come right back here.”

Johnny was still rock hard as he gave Mike a kiss and wandered off to the bathroom. He walked in, astonished to find the four-legged woman sitting on the toilet.

“What are you doing in here?” she shouted.

And then, she began to scream.

Chapter Four

Something weird was happening to Johnny and he couldn’t begin to explain things to Mike. When the four-legged lady started screaming, Johnny covered his ears and closed his eyes—tightly. He could still hear her anguished cries, but could hardly believe it when Mike arrived and she was no longer there.

He insisted he’d only heard Johnny screaming. He saw no four-legged lady and kept looking at Johnny as if he’d gone nuts.

“Johnny, what’s this about?” Mike asked. His tone was kind, gentle. “You on some weird acid trip, or something?” Before Johnny could respond, Mike said, “It’s because of the wipeout. Almost drowning does weird things to the equilibrium.”

“I—” Johnny knew it had nothing to do with a wipeout. He knew he hadn’t wiped out. It was Dad’s magic. He could still remember the old man’s chilling words. “You can come back on the twelfth of never!”

He began to shiver and Mike put his arms around him. “Come on, Johnny. I’ll make you a strong cup of tea.”

Johnny allowed Mike to lead him back to the kitchen. He watched the man move around the cluttered bench top as the kettle’s whistle began to sing.

“I’m adding sugar. They say it’s good for shock,” Mike said, looking at him over his shoulder.

“Shock?” Johnny supposed he was in a kind of shocked state. He toyed with a round, lime-green O that must have fallen from the breakfast cereal box. Across the table, an orange one sat. He reached for it, pressing the two pieces together. The colors and the O’s fit. Just like he and Mike did. He longed to get frisky with the guy again. He eyed the strong, hot liquid in front of him. Keeping the cereal in his left hand, he picked up the cup with other and sipped.

“Take your time,” Mike said. “It’s not going anywhere.”

Johnny nodded. He didn’t mind having a burned upper lip and tongue. Mike didn’t know what it was like growing up with a caravan full of people who never got enough sustenance. None of them let their food or drink alone too long, because it soon found its way into somebody else’s hands.

Johnny knew he wasn’t. His father was. But if you live with crazy long enough, you can become pretty out there, too.

“What do you remember about the wipeout?” Mike asked, surprising him.

“Nothing,” Johnny admitted.

“Do you remember sitting on the board with me?”

Johnny frowned, concentrating. The tea was good. Very good. Strong, English tea with sugar in it. He could see himself becoming obsessed with it. He’d always been like that. He’d discover new foods and eat them, disregarding everything else. It had been like that with mangoes, strawberries—

“I remember now.” Johnny could, actually. He’d been sitting behind Mike, arms around his waist as they waited for a wave. “My father stood at the shoreline screaming at us.”

“Yeah.” Mike’s face took on an odd expression. “He’s a laugh a minute, isn’t he?” He paused as Johnny’s face turned red. “He really doesn’t like having a gay son, does he.” It was a statement, not a question.

“He knows I’ve never been with a man,” Johnny said. “The one time I almost was, he stopped it.”

Mike held up a hand. “Wait. Are you…for real? You’ve never been with a man?”

Johnny wished there was way more tea in the cup. He wished it would leap out and swallow him whole. Like a tsunami. He closed his eyes.

“Until what happened here on the sofa, no. I’ve never been with a man.”

Mike sat back in his chair, staring at him.

Johnny became inexplicably filled with terror that he could feel his fingers tightening on the two pieces of cereal in his hand. He glanced down. The two O’s had turned to brightly colored dust particles. Crushed.

Had he just crushed any hope of being with Mike?

“Wow,” Mike said.”A virgin. That explains some things.” He sat up again. “Were you nervous being with me?”

“A little.”

“But not worried?”

“Why would I worry?”

“I don’t know. I’m just wondering. You thought you saw a lady with four legs sitting on the toilet seat. Maybe you freaked out a little.”

Johnny smiled because it did sound crazy, actually. “So you don’t remember the circus? I did see you there,” he said.

“A circus? I wasn’t at no circus, Johnny. I’m telling you, it was the wipeout. Look, funny things happen to people when they get slammed by a big wave. Some people see their lives flash before their eyes. Some people get a sense of being in a fight, like an actual fight. They feel like they got hit by a big punch and it’s them against the wave.”

“That makes sense.” Johnny wondered if Mike were right. If so, what the hell had happened to his family? And the county fair? Where had it all vanished to?

“Of course it makes sense.” Mike seemed to be excited about his theory now. “I have a friend who wiped out and told me he woke up in the desert, with all these birds of prey circling him. He told me some weird shit. He saw some sherpa bleeding a camel. He suddenly knew all this shit about the world he never knew before. Life stuff, you know? Not life stuff. More…survivalist stuff now I think about it. My friend’s been kinds weird since then.”

“Weird, how?” Johnny really wanted to know. He still wasn’t convinced the circus side show hadn’t happened; that he hadn’t been there. It seemed real. Too real.

“Well, I don’t know how to explain it. He’s just different. He changed his name to Sudan, if you can believe it. A lifelong surfer is now committed to the desert. He takes people out on visionquests. He’s gone all Native American now.”

“Was he your lover?” Johnny couldn’t resist the question. There was something in Mike’s tone that suggested abandonment.

“Yes, he was.” Mike shook his head. “Funny you should pick up on that. You want another cup of tea?”

“I’d prefer to have more sex.”

“Have another cup first.” Mike’s edge of anxiety seemed to creep back into his voice. Johnny had an inkling the guy wanted to make sure Johnny wasn’t a complete lunatic before getting down and dirty with him again.

“You ever see him?” he asked as Mike made more tea.

“Who? Sudan? No. Never. I hate the desert. I feel landlocked there and he hates the ocean. He’s afraid of it.” He shook his head. “When I met him, he went by the name Missouri. Had some weird, freak accident on a river and then became Swell and lived on the beach. I mean, literally on the beach.”

“He sounds almost like me,” Johnny said.

“You live on the beach?”

“Lots of them. My family’s been traveling around in a caravan since I was a kid. We camp at beaches all over the country.”

Mike turned and stared at him. “Seriously?”

Johnny nodded. He was worried about the smaller kids in the family now. Without him to buffer them from his father’s daily outbursts, were they okay?”

“What about school?”

“Never been,” Johnny said.

Mike gaped at him. “You’ve never been to school?”As Johnny shook his head, he said, “Can you read and write?”

“Sure I can. My mom taught me. I know some stuff, but I have no formal education.” He refrained from mentioning that his father’s idea of education was swiping medical journals from hospital lobbies and daily newspapers from mangled piles at Starbucks coffee shops and thrusting them into his kids’ hands. Johnny knew more about infectious diseases and Dow Trading than anyone had a right to know.

“Dang. That’s just fucked up, Johnny.”

The kettle whistled and Johnny found himself hankering for that second cup of tea.

Mike brought the cups over and they talked some more. He appeared fascinated with Johnny’s life up to this point.

“Do you remember my father yelling at us that day before we wiped out?” Johnny asked. Mike took too long to answer.

“No,” he said.

Johnny knew the guy was lying, but why? Mike eyed the wall clock.

“We can fool around a while longer, but I’m meeting up with some friends in a couple of hours to do some tow-surfing.”

Johnny nodded. “Okay, cool.” All he could think about how nice it would be to have Mike all over him again.

“Hey, you washed yourself yet?” Mike asked.

Johnny had to think. Man, his thoughts were fuzzy and all over the place. Maybe Mike was right and he’d suffered a bad wipeout that had messed him up. He remembered now that he’d gone to the bathroom to shower off Mike’s pee from his leg.

“Drink up. We’ll shower together.” Mike grinned at him.

They finished quickly and raced to the bathroom. Mike ran the taps and they stepped under the cold spray as soon as Mike adjusted the water flow to run from the shower nozzle. Johnny luxuriated in the strong stream pouring down his head and neck. Mike was rubbing some silky soft, fruit-smelling gel all over his body. It was a far cry from the bar soap he shared with his family and the public showers they used at the camp grounds.

Mike’s hands felt so good as they squeezed Johnny’s shoulders and neck and moved down to cup his ass cheeks.

“You’ve got the perfect ass,” Mike said against his lips. Johnny could taste sea salt, tea, mil and cereal on the other man’s tongue as they began to kiss, their cocks colliding Mike moved one hand to Johnny’s cock, stroking it with a determined hand.

“Nice and big,” Mike said between kisses.

Johnny loved the other man’s tongue roaming his face and neck, the little, slick bites of his nipples. Everything Mike did made his cock grow harder and bigger. Johnny had never been so aware of the sensations stirred in his own body. He wanted Mike to feel good too.

Mike was no virgin and had no problem telling Johnny what he wanted.

“Suck my cock,” he commanded.

Johnny got to his knees wanting to do such a great job that Mike wouldn’t want to go tow-surfing, or anywhere else except maybe the bedroom.

Water splashed around them and Mike laughed, drawing the curtain around them.

Johnny stayed on his knees, ogling the object of all his fanatical desires and dreams. A big, beautiful, juicy cock just begging for his attention.

Mike brushed water out of Johnny’s eyes but more followed. Johnny gave a little cry and rubbed his face against Mike’s cock and balls, using both hands to capture the man’s cock. He took a deep breath and put his lips around the thick, wide cock head and suddenly heard a woman’s shill scream.

Johnny was mortified when Mike thrust back the curtain. He spluttered as shower water poured into his mouth.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a woman shouted. She stood, hands on hips, looking ready for a fight. Johnny was relieved it wasn’t the four-legged woman, or the armless woman, but he had no idea who this fully-limbed one was. As he struggled to his feet, the woman seemed to be getting ready to really let Mike have it.

This fascinated Johnny rather than frightened him since he couldn’t recall his own mother ever allowing herself to express anger. She suffered in silence, when she wasn’t sobbing over her chores.

“Michael, honestly.” She reached in and turned off the shower taps, the two men cowering in the corner. Johnny hid behind Mike’s bigger bulk. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the woman hitting him, though he felt she probably could at any moment. He was embarrassed at being caught. With another man.

“Mom,” Mike said, sounding aggrieved. “Don’t you ever knock?”

“I didn’t know you had company.” She peered around Mike’s dripping back. “Hey there. I don’t bite. I just sound like I do.”

“Mom, do you mind?” Mike pulled the shower curtain around their bodies.

“Michael, I have seen naked men before. He’s a cutie pie.” She brushed back the curtain and stuck her hand out. “I’m Sharita. Nice to meet you.”

Johnny gulped. Both hands were busy covering his dangly bits. Her gaze drifted down and she could see that, but she kept her hand out just the same.

“Mom!” Mike said.

“Johnny April.” Johnny had always been taught to be polite to adults and he immediately shook the woman’s hand. She gave him a smile. She seemed to be working awfully hard to appear friendly and nice, but he could tell she was really pissed at Mike.

“I’ll make you boys some breakfast.” She turned and left the bathroom.

“We already ate,” Mike shouted, but she didn’t respond. She’d left the door ajar, possibly, Johnny thought, to prevent anymore hanky panky but he was keen to eat again. He’d never had so much food in his life. He was the first one out of the shower stall, toweling off quickly.

Johnny was used to sharing clothes, even underpants with his Dad. In fact, he’d never worn first-hand clothing in his life and he felt a secret thrill when Mike tore open a plastic package of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and handed him a pair. He liked the hungry way Mike watched him slide the tight black underpants up his thighs and over his butt.

“Huh.” Mike cupped Johnny’s package, making Johnny bite his lip. “Sexy,” Mike muttered. Johnny leaned in for a kiss. Mike seemed to hesitate but gave him a quick one.

Johnny had never felt sexy before, but he did, not just because of Mike’s single word and the way he touched him, but because he was wearing the man’s clothes. There was something damned sexy about that.

Johnny could smell them. Eggs. His father had always refused to have them in their food repertoire but Johnny had once caught him eating an omelet at a Denny’s during one long carnival circuit in the southwest. He’d been sent by his mom to find his father and it had shocked him to notice his father from the big windows out front. He’d entered the restaurant and hid behind a potted palm watching his old man eat. It was a big omelet and the sensual way he consumed every bite, moaning in ecstasy and closing his eyes with each mouthful had embarrassed Johnny.

He’d walked up to his father, furious that the mean old prick showed more love for a plate of food than even his own wife and said, “Ma’s looking for you.”

His father had opened his eyes in shock. Johnny left the restaurant but noticed that after a few uncertain seconds, his father went right on eating. Johnny had resented that meal. He’d eaten only apples for days. He and his dad never mentioned the incident, or the omelet again, but his father’s hypocrisy had burned in Johnny’s heart to this very day.

He walked down the hallway now, excited to try his first plate of home-cooked eggs. There was something about the smell. Comforting. Caring…

Johnny’s stomach growled and Mike, walking slightly ahead of him, turned in surprise. “You’re still hungry? Where do you put it all?”

In the kitchen, Mike’s mom had gone mad, making eggs, toast, and bacon.

Mike poured himself a cup of coffee and stood, watching Johnny try his first forkful of eggs.

“Anybody would think you’ve never tried them before,” Mike said.

Johnny tasted and chewed, though the eggs were slippery. Delicious, but not really chewy. “I haven’t,” he said.

Mike’s mother turned from the toaster and gaped at him. Mike stared at him over the rim of his cup.

“You’ve never had eggs?” she asked.

Johnny was embarrassed now. He felt like a freak.

Circus freak.

Step right up folks and see the weird crazy boy who never ate eggs in his life!

Shame and terror almost stopped him, but he was too obsessed with the food. Maybe his dad had been right. The more food you ate, the more you craved it.

He took another bite as mother and son watched him with looks of pity.

“They are very good,” he said, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as he thought they were.

Mike and his mom grinned then.

“She makes the best eggs.” Mike put his arm around her shoulders. She chuckled and brought a plate of hot buttered toast to the table. Mike sat then, pushing a second cup of coffee toward Johnny.

Johnny thanked him and began working out how he would eat, in case Mike or his mom got mad and took his food away, like Dad sometimes did.

“Her secret is cream cheese,” Mike said.

Cream cheese. It was one of the few cheeses Johnny had tried. He could even remember where. At a coffee shop in Half Moon Bay in Northern California. His father had taken the family up there one summer in the ill-thought hope that they could give surfing lessons to the local kids, but the summer had been a rough one full of wind and rain and the cops kept making the family move their caravan, treating them like vagrants. It had embarrassed Johnny until one night his father got drunk and threw a punch at a patrolling officer. He’d wound up arrested and thrown into the pokey for the night.

The police officers had gone through the caravan and muttered about the poor conditions the children endured. They’d given Johnny ten dollars out of their own pockets and that night, the April family went to the coffee shop near the shoreline and the staff there had given Johnny and his mom cappuccinos. The younger children got glasses of milk.

Then the staff produced day-old bagels that they toasted and slathered with cream cheese. It had all cost a lot more than ten dollars, but the staff said ten dollars was fine. They’d even brought two cup cakes over that the children split between them.

That had been a great day.

None of the family ever dared breathe a word of the forbidden food experiment to the old man but the kids sometimes mentioned it to Johnny and their mom.

Cream cheese. Yeah. It was so good. He took a bite of toast, then a bite of bacon. A sip of coffee. A bite of eggs. He ate each thing in turn so that he could savor the taste of each piece of food.

Mike watched him, an odd look on his face. “When did you last eat? Before this morning I mean?”

Johnny swallowed a piece of bacon and shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

His father called bacon heart attack food. Boy, what a way to go! This stuff was fantastic.

“You don’t need to do that.” Mike’s mom shook her head. “I enjoy watching you eat. You do it with such reverence.”

“I appreciate what you’ve given me to eat.” Johnny was afraid he would cry. “You’re both so nice.”

Mike grinned. “We’ll go for a surf as soon as you’re done.” He got up from the table and put his empty cup in the sink.

Johnny’s reaction surprised them all. “No!” he shouted. He dropped his fork on the floor, picked it up and apologized to Mike’s mom who smoothed his damp hair back from his face and said, “It’s nothing. I’ll get you a clean one.”

“You don’t want to go surfing?” Mike looked astonished.

“My leg still hurts from the jelly fish,” Johnny said, which was true.

“Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot.”

“Why don’t you stay here with me and we’ll have a nice chat. Mike, you go do your thing.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “He is not going to stay here and chat with you.”

Johnny ate faster. He could sense a storm brewing and he didn’t want to lose his food.

“Slow down,” Mike suddenly said. “Nobody’s taking it away from you.”

Johnny stopped eating, dropping his head in shame.

“Jesus,” Mike muttered when Johnny started to cry. His father was right. Food was evil. He’d been tempted. He’d been seduced. He now craved Mike. And food.

“Sweetie, you take your time,” Mike’s mom said, wrapping her arms around Johnny. She smelled sweet, like brown sugar. “You take your time and I’ll make lunch. Do you like roast lamb?”

Johnny stared at her. “Never had it.”

“Well.” She didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “Do you know how to shell peas?”

He smiled then. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Well, you can help me. Finish your breakfast. Mike, go do your thing.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mike said. “And he is not shelling peas with you.” He sat beside Johnny as if staring at him would make him eat faster.

“We don’t have to surf, but how about a walk on the beach?” Mike sounded desperate.

Mike had the perfect mother, Johnny decided. It was hard to pull himself away from her and her fabulous eats, but Mike tugged at him. Johnny hugged Sharita who laughed, hugging him back.

“You’re adorable,” she said.

Mike opened the screen door and held it open for Johnny. As he walked outside he almost fainted.

The beach was gone.

Mike was gone.

He was backstage at the freak show.

And the four-legged woman was sitting in the corner.

Chapter Six

Johnny April had always been the type to show concert for other people’s pain. But right now he didn’t honestly care why the four-legged lady was crying. He wanted to be back in Mike’s sunny, warm kitchen with all that bacon and the promise of lamb and roasted potatoes.

He suddenly felt ashamed of his selfish thoughts. He was so unaccustomed to having them he didn’t know how to deal with it.

She stopped sniveling for a moment and gazed at him. She hiccupped. “Where have you been? They told me a shark ate you!” She jumped from her chair and ran to him, her extra set of useless legs swinging between her functional ones. She grabbed him and hugged him hard.

Johnny thought he could hear a bone creaking in his back.

“You’re okay.” She smelled strange. It was an unusual scent, but not unpleasant. Not really. It was just…odd. It wasn’t particularly alluring.

She pushed herself back from him, her little hands patting his chest and arms as though she wanted to make sure he really was there.

“Let me hear your heart.” She moved closer again and put her ear to his chest. “You’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive.”

“Don’t get huffy with me, mister. I’m the one who begged the circus master to start a search party for you.”

“You did? Thank you.” What else could he say, especially when she kept touching him.

“Yes. It is indeed a pity he insisted we move on.”

Johnny thought the circus master sounded a lot like his father.

“Where are we now?” He tried to peer through the folds of the red velvet curtains, but it was too dark.

She gave him a peculiar look. “Boston. It’s a special night. The Bear Woman has joined the show!”

Bear Woman? It stirred some deep memory in Johnny, but before he could question her, she gripped his hand and pressed his pulse points. “Yep. Heartbeat is racing. You’re alive for sure. How did you survive the shark attack?”

“What shark?” he asked. “I don’t…” He broke off his sentence. He felt funny now. Not quite himself. Maybe it was all that food. He wasn’t used to such rich fare. He scratched his temple. He wondered if he would ever get to enjoy bacon again.

“That shark,” she said, reaching up and putting her hand to his shoulder. Unbelievably, her fingers reached through to some holes in the back of his T-shirt. She poked at an open wound in his shoulder. He hadn’t felt the pain until she started meddling with it.

“Ow!” He tried wrestling himself away from her, but she had a powerful grip. For a small woman, she certainly had superior strength.

“You mean you didn’t know?” She pointed back over his shoulder. “Look.”

He turned and realized there was a mirror behind him. To his utter astonishment, he stared at the image of his back. He’d been torn and bloodied. It was hard to see looking over his shoulder this way, but the four-legged woman ran and fetched him a mirror. He held it up and looked into it, getting a closer view of the shark bite. It looked as though the shark had grabbed him by the right half of his body.

“Is that a shark’s tooth?” he asked, feeling faint. As he touched the jagged white object sticking out of his shoulder, the pain became intense.

He dropped the mirror in fright when he realized there were more teeth embedded in his body. Johnny let out a scream. He seemed to scare Myrtle who suddenly ran from the room. Johnny freaked out completely when the blood oozed through his fingers when he touched the wound again.

Johnny heard the circus master’s booming voice: “Here she, ladies and gentlemen! The four-legged lady from Texas!” The crowd shouted their approval. Meanwhile back in the dressing room, some of the performers came running. Somebody tugged at the hem of his shorts. He glanced down and saw a tiny woman, well under three-feet tall staring up at him. She wore a long, black velvet gown with a ribbon of white lace at throat. Her hair was done in the cinnamon-buns-clamped-to-her-ears style so favored by Princess Leia.

Her mouth fell open and she blinked, uttering a harsh shriek just as he recalled who she was. They called her Mrs. Tom Thumb and he knew she’d been a popular circus ‘freak’. In fact, she and her husband, the original Tom Thumb had been famous for escaping the confines of circuses to attain respectability in polite circles.

They’d even had dinner with President Abraham Lincoln, he remembered.

Well, the woman once hailed for her charm and beauty was being obnoxious right now. She took off as fast as her voluminous skirts and little legs could carry her.

He closed his eyes, the world spinning in mad circles. He started to sway and then heard a sweet, soothing female voice coming from behind him.

“Let me look at him,” the lady said. “Dear one, I will help you.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, still standing behind him. The caring, tender way she treated him centered him immediately. “Don’t feel bad about Lavinia. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She only regrets she isn’t tall enough to help you.”

He began to cry. The woman was so kind. Gentleness always rattled him because he wasn’t used to it and his need for nurturing was so great. He thought with great longing of Sharita and the way she had wanted to feed him. His mother had always been grateful that he starved himself of attention and food.

The woman said to somebody, bring me boiling water and bandages.” As though it were an afterthought she said, “And bring me one of Lewis’s white shirts.”

She began to hum and sing. He didn’t recognize the song but it sure stopped him from blubbering. He lowered his head, almost falling asleep. He blinked, his head coming back up involuntarily as she began removing the T-shirt with a pair of scissors. It fell in tatters at his feet.

“May I know your name?” she asked in the middle of a song.

“Johnny. Johnny April. May I know yours?”

Before she could respond, he let out a yelp. She’d pulled something out of his back. A tooth. He closed his eyes again, feeling sick. She began to hum, then said, “One more, Mr. April,” before extracting a second, seemingly bigger tooth from the middle of his back. She pressed hot water to his wounds and kept singing her sweet tune.

“And now some salve,” she said, daubing the wounds with some wonderful bittersweet-smelling stuff.

“What is that?” he asked, sniffing deeply. The aroma filled him with a deep sense of nostalgia, yet he had no idea how this was possible. He could detect bergamot on the air and something else.

“Black drawing salve,” the woman announced. She began to wrap the bandages around him. “My name is Julia.” She circled his body with a long piece of gauze and his heart almost stopped when he looked into her eyes.

He’d never seen an uglier woman. Her eyes were alive with warmth and genuine caring. Her face however, was covered in hair. Covered.

Her whole body was, come to think of it. She was so hairy and her features so thick, her mouth almost ape-like that it shocked him. But she wore a wonderful yellow dress and her tiny, dainty feet were encased in yellow dancing shoes. Her long hair had been dressed with yellow ribbons and white lace.

He knew who she was. She had always fascinated him.

She was Julia Pastrana. The famous hairy woman some likened to a baboon, and others he remembered now, to a bear. She had been manipulated and used first by her mother, and then by her husband Theodore Lent, also known as Lewis.

Johnny knew her story well. She had been poked and prodded by medical experts all over the world and proclaimed finally to be one hundred percent human but with an unfortunate hairy condition. She had wonderful attributes; she could dance and sing. He remembered Lent had married her and impregnated her.

His gaze fell to her waist. My God, she is with child.

“Are you having a baby?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes melting with pleasure.

He wished he could warn her of what would happen. It was a fate not worthy of such a truly beautiful, lovely woman.

What could he say to warn her of the nightmarish future she faced? Could he say, “Your baby will die during childbirth due to asphyxiation and you will die two days later due to the complications of his delivery. Your husband will have you both mummified and you will travel the world in a glass case, still freaks on display.”

Could he say that?

Should he warn her that Lent would marry another woman with the same condition and force her to perform next to the remains of his dead wife and baby?

He took a deep breath and said, “You can’t have this baby.”

“Are you mad?” she asked, her whole face changing. She looked stricken, as though he had slapped her. She dropped the gauze and stared at the ground. Her head shook from left to right. “You don’t know,” she said. “You have no idea. I must have this baby. He is all I have. Don’t you see? He is the only person in the whole wide world who will understand me. I must have this child. I love him. I feel his breath in me. I swear I hear his heart beating.”

She looked devastated when she glanced back at Johnny. “Would you deny me the one thing, the only thing in this world that gives me grace? That allows me peace?”

Johnny turned and stared at the man now cocking what looked like an old blunderbuss.

“Put your hands up,” the man said again, his tone icy and menacing. Johnny could feel Julia Pastrana’s fear. She held her breath, shaking a little. He glanced from what looked like a very expensive, ornate dress to her feet. She was short, well under five feet, but slim and buxom. His gaze moved up and down her body, going back to her feet again.They were so dainty and encased in yellow leather slippers with ribbon bindings, she seemed every inch a feminine women except for all that hair.

Johnny raised his hands and became aware of Julia’s agitated swaying beside him.

My God her shoes are too small. She’s in pain. And her dress is too tight. She can’t breathe!

Johnny worried more for the expectant woman than he did about his own plight. He suspected the man was Theodore “Lewis” Lent, the calculating manager who had married Julia and exploited her both during her short twenty-six years on earth and after it. Johnny had seen the photos of her and the baby boy she lost. After their deaths, he had them mummified and carried them around the world in a glass cabinet. She was his Twisted Cinderella. Except nothing would save her.

Or her baby.

No pumpkins or mice, or a fairy godmother. She would be on display for over a century. He’d just read about how an artist finally fought for the right to give Julia a proper burial.

The man with the gun said something but before Johnny could try to figure it out, Julia slipped to the ground. Johnny immediately knelt beside her. She felt hot. Damned hot and clammy. Her eyelids fluttered.

“I’ll get her water,” the man said in a gruff tone. It didn’t really sound like he cared if she was okay. “Get ‘er up,” he told Johnny.

Johnny obeyed and brought Julia to her feet. Her eyes opened and closed in a vague way.

“Where am I?” she asked. Ten seconds later, her head lolled from side to side. “Where is Lewis?”

She had lovely eyes. Intelligent, brave, sad eyes. He led her to a chair where she sat, breathing heavily, Johnny coaxing her to relax as her face jerked in pain.

Johnny thought this was interesting and sort of bizarre. He recalled that Lent wound up dying alone in a mental asylum. Perhaps preying on innocent women had finally pricked his conscience.

The man returned with a glass of water. The liquid didn’t look particularly clean but Julia reached for it, her hands shaking. Johnny held the glass to steady the water from sloshing and she gulped hard at the contents.

He felt so sorry for her. “May I have another, Lewis?”

He shook his head. “Dance first, then more water. You can’t drink too much.”

“But I am so parched,” she moaned.

Her husband lost his temper and snapped at her. “Stop complaining. Your music is about to start.” His face started to turn red, his eyes bulging in fury.

Johnny glared at Lent, who was a lot less attractive than the engravings he’d seen of the man. In fact, he was damned ugly. He was tall, fat, had sparse hair on top of his which he appeared to be trying to atone for with a huge, mutton chop beard and eyes that looked like they wanted to run away from his face.

And people called Julia a monster…

Johnny stayed beside the still shaky Julia. Suddenly the baby inside her gave a kick. He could feel it against his arm.

“I think he’s ready to dance,” Johnny said.

Julia Pastrana’s whole expression changed. She laughed, revealing surprisingly even, white teeth. Though her lips were huge, her teeth were small. Mother nature had really played havoc with this poor woman.

“Have you trimmed your chin hair?” Lent screamed at his wife. “I hope not. People like it long. They expect to see a bear woman!”

“No, I did not.” Her voice grew small again and she shrank against Johnny.

He knew she was afraid of her husband, but also sensed her desperate love for him. She was as hopeless as his mother, trapped in a relationship she needed, or thought she needed, caught in a net that she hoped would protect her yet only ever betrayed her.

Some strange music began to play outside the ratty red velvet curtains.

“Showtime.” Lent wiggled his eyebrows.

Something inside Julia overtook the quivering, frightened mother-to-be. Music. It transformed her, her face suddenly shiny, and her eyes dreamy. It was sad and yet, he longed to see her in action. By all accounts, she’d had a beautiful voice and had been a truly gifted dancer.

He helped her to her feet.

“Stand by the stage,” she urged Johnny.

“No,” her husband countered.

“Please, Lewis,” she said. “I still feel unwell.”

Lent said nothing. He picked up the gun that Johnny hadn’t even realized he’d left on a nearby chair. He shoved it into the pocket of the long coat he wore and gave Johnny an unpleasant look that might have said, watch yourself.

He escorted the wobbly but excited Julia to the part in the curtains. She grabbed a long yellow veil from a small table in the room and threw it over her head. The effort almost toppled her. Johnny longed to fetch her another glass of water, but she seemed determined to go on.

The master of ceremonies out front shouted to the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen! Step right up! We have a very special preview for you this evening!”
The crowd roared its appreciation and Julia seemed very excited now. She looked up at Johnny, her eyes alive with joy behind the veil.

“Do I look acceptable?”

“Acceptable? You are beautiful,” he said as the MC whipped the audience into a frenxy.

She looked stunned at Johnny’s words, then focused on the applause meant for her.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The famous ape woman, the unique bear women, or maybe you know her as the misnomer woman… Miss Julia Pastrana is here with a very special performance! Next week, she is leaving us and heading to Berlin and Leipzig to star in a play created especially for her, called Der curierte Meyer.

“In it, a young German man falls in love with a sweet-voiced woman who always wears a veil. Well, I won’t tell you more. I’ll let you see for yourselves! Here she is folks, the legendary Julia Pastrana!”

She rushed out, arms held high and Johnny ran to the wings at stage left to watch her perform. She truly had a presence. The crowd adored her and she, them. She waved and blew kisses and then the MC announced beside her, “To aid in her little preview here, we’ve asked one of our favorite circus freaks, the famous Shark Man to enact the love-struck German.”

The crowd went crazy.

Johnny’s mouth gaped as he saw a handsome man stagger onto the stage. He had a normal top half of his body, but his feet were deformed. They looked like flippers.

Not only that, when Johnny looked at him, the man was…

Mike.

* * * *

It took Johnny a couple of minutes to absorb the appearance of his new lover in the show. He could hear the crowd roaring with laughter but he didn’t think the show was very funny. When Mike left the stage a few time to allegedly milk his cows or chop wood to make soup, Julia would lift her veil to the endless amusement of the audience. She didn’t seem to mind their laughter. She even ad-libbed, “Of course the man I love is perfect.”

When the Shark Man came back on stage he looked bright red and very embarrassed. As soon as Julia lifted her veil and revealed herself, he screamed and hobbled off.

The crowd loved it. Julia took lots of curtain calls. Mike didn’t come back to the stage and as the MC asked for another round of applause for Julia, Johnny ran back to the dressing room hoping to find him.

He was there all right, sitting on a chair, staring down at his feet. The Shark Man didn’t show any sign of recognition when he looked up and caught Johnny’s gaze. He had the same defeated, lost look Johnny had seen on the faces of circus freaks across America.

“Hi,” he said.

“Do I know you?” the other man asked.

Johnny wondered whether the Shark Man was an earlier incarnation of Mike. Had he once been a circus freak in another life? Did Mike feel as though he was a circus freak now? So many questions and just no answers…yet.

Maybe he was supposed to see the Shark Man to understand Mike better.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Johnny said as he overheard the MC saying, “”And of course, the man doesn’t come back. Once he gets a load of what’s under the veil, he goes running for the hills!”

The crowd roared once more. The Shark Man winced. So did Johnny.

“What’s your affliction?” the Shark Man asked Johnny.

“I’m lost.”

“Aren’t we all?” He didn’t sound friendly and didn’t encourage more conversation, but Johnny made another stab it.

“My name is Johnny April.”

“I’m Butch Stevenson, better known as Shark Man. What I have is a family condition. And I don’t even like to swim.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. Johnny guessed their conversation was over.

Out front, Julia began to sing, beautiful, haunting, romantic numbers in both Spanish and English. She finished her set dancing traditional Spanish muñeira as a man stood near her playing bagpipes. Johnny was intrigued to learn this particular dance was customary in old Spain. He’d never associated bagpipes with Latin cultures, but both the melody and Julia’s foot movements were unforgettable.

He began to wonder, as she took her curtain calls, what life would have been like without the cross God gave her to bear.

She nodded, “Fine, thank you,” as she gulped at the water. Johnny brought her a chair. He tried not to watch as the Shark Man began to crawl away on his hands and knees.

“It’s so much more comfortable for him,” Julia said. For long moments, she and Johnny sat in companionable silence.

“There are two things I wish for,” she said as the MC began stirring up the crowd for the next freak.

“What are they?” Johnny asked.

“That my son not be born with hair like mine, or his father’s disposition.” She looked fretful. “I dream of running away with him, of starting a new life. But I have terrible dreams sometimes. I am just like prisoner number 280.”

“280?”

Julia nodded again and finished her water. “That was Marie Antoinette’s prisoner number and we all know what happened to her.” She started to cry. “Sometimes I feel I am right there with her. I am not allowed to walk out in daylight. My husband doesn’t want people to see me. He is ashamed of me. Sometimes I truly think he wishes I were dead.”

“No. Surely not.” Johnny shook his head.

Julia dropped the glass and it smashed, her eyes widening in fear.

“Oh, Johnny, I am so afraid I am going to die.” Blood started pooling at her feet, shocking them both.